A fellow beat writer pays tribute to ‘little brother’ and range buddy Terez Paylor
As I sit here going through photos in my phone and reading text messages dating back years, I can’t help but smile. But walking through my home, knowing he once sat on that chair or on that couch, I feel an emptiness knowing Terez Paylor is gone.
We started off as competitors from different media outlets when our paths first crossed in 2013. Terez had a legendary work ethic. He was highly motivated and a tremendous self-starter, able to execute initiative in the absence of orders. I always used to tell him he would’ve made one hell of a soldier — a compliment, as a veteran, that I don’t share too often with civilians.
His competitive drive was something to behold. He was fierce. In March 2015, we were in the Chiefs’ media room, which can get a tad boisterous, at the start of free agency, and he noticed I was super quiet. We had been assigned seats next to each other.
He found out why minutes later when I tweeted that the Chiefs had signed guard Paul Fanaika. Terez muttered an expletive under his breath before grabbing his phone and going in the back room to run down confirmation. Later that year, I broke the story on Tavon Rooks suffering a heart attack in training camp, and Terez didn’t talk to me for two whole days.
It was all love, though. He eventually called me to let me know how happy he was that I got that scoop. I understood the competitive drive in him.
Terez certainly got me numerous times, too, of course. He was the gold standard of breaking Chiefs news. Along with sitting beside one another in the team media room, we always made it a point to sit next to each other at the NFL’s annual Scouting Combine. When he’d get very quiet, I would immediately know what was up.
Then he’d tweet out the news item and it was my turn to mutter an expletive. He’d be grinning as I grabbed my phone to race outside to chase down his story. We always laughed about those moments, but he pushed me and I pushed him. There was a deep mutual professional respect between us, and I was always happy for Terez when he got the big scoop — the Chiefs re-signing QB Alex Smith in 2014, for instance, or trading him to Washington in 2018. On both of those occasions (and others), he’d beaten the national media and we were rightfully proud of that.
We also became work and professional confidants for one another. In the summer of 2016, when The Times-Picayune expressed interest in hiring me to join the New Orleans Saints beat, Terez was the first to know. We spent hours talking on the phone about the job before I accepted it and moved to The Big Easy.
The miles didn’t separate our friendship. By then, it had developed into a big brother-little brother relationship. I was thrilled when he told me he’d found love with Ebony Reed. He was so happy he’d found The One. And Ebony completed him.
I was excited for him when he called to let me know he was taking a job at Yahoo Sports. He was also among the first to know when I decided to make the jump to NFL Media. Both of our job changes happened within weeks of each other.
Outside of work, Terez knew he could tell me anything, or ask me about a wide variety of stuff, including politics and social issues. He often asked about my time in the Army and wanted to know my thoughts on world events from a soldier’s point of view. He genuinely cared about the military. Too often we hear empty appreciation for the armed services, and veterans can spot BS. Terez cared.
Terez applied his drive to improve in all areas of his life. My passion for poker is pretty well-known, and Terez liked to dabble on the felt periodically. He wasn’t the best poker player at first. He noticed my aggressive style, which tends to push people around at a table. After a game, he was often the last to leave. He’d ask me how to play hands — basic strategy questions about position, or when to three-bet light. He wanted to buy some poker books, and I recommended a few. He read them, too, which was evident as his play improved. I was so proud of him.
He visited New Orleans in summer 2019 and I asked him what he wanted to do. I cleared my schedule for a full day of hanging out. He knew I owned weapons, and he had a desire to learn, telling me there was no one else he trusted to teach him. Knowing he loved the “John Wick” movie series, I treated Terez to a full day at my former indoor range. I familiarized him with assorted firearms, including mine. I’ll never forget his daylong smile as I brought him into my world.
When The Star made the move to bring me back to Kansas City, Terez was the first to call me before the official announcement was made. He told me he couldn’t be happier for me. We always dreamed of working a beat together for the same employer. He was at Yahoo by then, but at least we’d be in the same geographical area again.
There are so many things that I know will remain empty in my soul. I will miss our silly text messages about whether John Wick or Jason Bourne would win in a showdown. We broke down “Game of Thrones” after each episode; I miss that, too. I will miss his texts asking when I’d next be hitting the range; he became my “range buddy” after I moved back to KC. With the football season over now, we’d just spoken on the phone about potential dates for going shooting. I will miss harmonizing New Edition songs with him at the combine — so many things.
I’m forever grateful for the day Terez Paylor entered my life in 2013.
I just miss my little brother.
